I come from a
legacy of substitutions.
I know you,
better than most;
I am the scratch to
your neverending itch.
I am a replacement
of a replacement,
and after I am spent,
another will pledge our sorority.
It is a long lineage—
a sisterhood of addiction,
each one of us lined up,
pretty maids in a row,
toppled among your
ginfucked, unanswered prayers.
When each morning retch leaves you
screaming to your
holyfuckingmotherofgod,
and the next round
leaves you a dry little manworm
in the bottom of
all that is empty,
remember this--
she may have left you limp,
but I never will.
Bronze trophy winner
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